The Parent Bird Also Flies the Nest
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The empty nest isn't a new thing for me. My daughter's departure from my home was complete six years ago. To be honest, at the time I didn't really suffer it. I was distracted, enjoying the financial advantages of downsizing into a new apartment. Our relationship was enriched by my capacity to go out shopping, to eat at cafes, and even go out dancing. My grown-up daughter and I thoroughly enjoyed exploring the joys of the world together, as adults. I revelled in our relationship, proud when people made a fuss that these two dancing queens were mother and daughter. It seemed like we had found our new normal, and I loved it. Me & her at Xmas Then COVID arrived and we Melbournians were locked up in our homes, unable to travel more than 5kms. This placed a prolonged physical divide between me and my daughter that felt like a hemisphere. To make matters worse, we had been processing some normal mother/daughter conflicts at the time. Conflicts which sank behind the walls of o